Garden of Lies (75 page)

apartment seemed since he had moved out. How only last night she had reached out across the

cold expanse of bed and he wasn’t there. How she missed the stupidest things, his razor and

toothbrush on the bathroom sink, his papers scattered across the coffee table.

Oh God, what was wrong with her? Brian was all she wanted, all she had ever needed. And

now was her chance.

[464] But something stopped her. Was it recognizing the loneliness in his face? Yes, she’d felt

it too, that emptiness, like a deserted city street at four in the morning with the cold wind

whipping. Oh, yes ...

I felt that way after Max left.

Then the words were spilling out of her. But not the things she had come here to say.

“I don’t want to play five-cent psychiatrist here or anything,” she began gently. “But I’ve seen

this before ... whatever problems you might have been having ... a thing like this, a trial, your life

laid open to a courtroom full of strangers ... it has a funny effect on people. On marriages. Don’t

come to any conclusions right away, that’s all I’m saying. Give it time.”

“When will it be over, this damn trial?”

“A day or two more at the most, I’m hoping. I’ve asked Judge Weintraub for a recess until

Monday. There are a few loose ends I need to check into.”
Dr. Sloane, for instance. I have a

feeling he’s not exactly kosher, over and above what Rachel has told me.

Brian hung his head for a moment, and when he lifted it, his eyes were rimmed with red. He

smiled then, a gentle, sad smile.

Rose felt her heart break a little, and she remembered a time when he had grieved for
her.
Yes,

that awful day when she was thirteen, playing the part of Mary Magdalene in the school’s Easter

play. All those hateful boys throwing their papier-mâché stones straight at her breasts—her big

cow breasts—smirking so only she, not the audience, could see. Oh, how humiliated she’d been!

But she couldn’t let them know. And then, afterwards, there was Brian, finding her backstage, all

the suffering she had felt written there in his face. His arms wrapping about her, folding her stiff,

proud body into his embrace.

Looking at him now, Rose saw how little he had changed, really, that same compassion was

undimmed. She stared at his hand on the table, his long fingers curled around his glass, a faint ink

stain on his thumb, and she imagined him reaching for her, stroking her face.

“It’s like Vietnam,” Brian was saying. “You know why we lost the war? I’ll tell you. It had

nothing to do with Tricky Dick. Or Kent State. Or the C.I.A. It was because we couldn’t
see
what

we [465] were fighting. Not just Charlie. Not just the guys in black pajamas planting pongee

sticks and claymores—what I’m talking about is not knowing what the hell we were supposed to

be fighting for. The enemy wasn’t the Viet Cong after all, it was
us.
That’s what killed us. We

didn’t know what we were fighting for, and it kept us running around in circles instead.

“And that’s what’s killing Rachel. Not knowing who the enemy is. The Saucedos? Di Fazio? I

don’t think so. I think it’s her ...
us.
There’s something wrong with the two of us, something

missing. I used to think it was the child we didn’t have, but now I know it’s more than that. We

both need something we can hang on to. Something solid. But, Christ, it’s just not there anymore.

It used to be. Maybe it still is ... somewhere ... and we’re just not looking hard enough.”

Or maybe you chose the wrong woman in the first place,
Rose thought.

But the bitterness was less strong than it used to be. She felt something else mixed in with it

now, something that rinsed through her, sweet and clear as a mountain spring.

Forgiveness.

I loved you, Brian. I loved you enough to die for you. But I couldn’t have saved you, not as

Rachel did. And now I understand. How the winds of change can blow. How events can be

bigger, stronger than we are. And even how you can love more than one person, each love with

its own subtle shadings, one maybe stronger but not necessarily canceling out the other.

She had been chasing the proverbial rainbow. A part of Brian had loved her, and always would

love her. Just as a grown person loves his happy memories of childhood. Barefoot summers and

Orange Ne-Hi and a ten-cent ride on the subway to Coney Island. A love so poignant because,

she sensed, there was no going back to it.

“I wonder how it would have turned out for us. If you’d married me instead,” Rose said. There

was a time when she couldn’t have said those words, it would have hurt too much.

Brian smiled, some of the sadness lifting from his face. “We’d be making mistakes, just like

everybody else. We’d be squabbling over who left the toothpaste uncapped, and which movie to

go see. And, yeah, there’d probably be times when we’d wish we’d married other people.”

“But we’d have been happy.”

[466] “Yeah. Probably.” His hand tightened about hers, and his gaze met hers, clear and

untroubled, for a brief moment. “But, Rose, we didn’t have a monopoly on happiness. You loved

me partly because you felt so alone. And you were so damn
proud.
If you’d let others in ...”

“I didn’t want anyone else.”

“It’s tough, Rose, being the only one responsible for another person’s happiness. No one

should ever be the
only
one.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she forced a smile. “You didn’t do so badly.”

He shook his head, looking pleased. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“For a long time, I couldn’t have. It hurt too much, remembering those days. But I guess I’ve

changed. We both have. I guess I’d rather remember the good things than throw them all out with

the bad.” She cocked her head, remembering. “Do you still have that Saint Christopher’s medal I

gave you?”

“No, but it saved my life. In Nam.” Haltingly, he told her his version of the rescue Rose had

read about in the newspapers.

“I’m glad you told me.” She withdrew her hand to brush the wetness from her eyes. “All those

months, I felt so frustrated, not being able to reach you. In a way, this sort of evens the score.”

“What score?”

“Rachel and you. For years, I’ve been jealous as hell over the fact that she saved your life. It

was something I would have done for you a hundred times over ... only I never got the chance.”

But you have the chance now
, she told herself.

“Rose ... if it makes any difference,” he told her, haltingly, “I
did
love you. I ... I still do, in a

way.”

“I know,” she said.

They exchanged a long, tender look. She understood exactly what he meant ... because she felt

the same way. They loved who they’d each been, and who they might have been ... not who they

were now.

“Do you love Rachel?” Rose asked, breaking the long silence.

“Yes. I’m not sure I knew how much until these past few days.”

He looked at her, and she saw nothing but honesty in those fine gray eyes that seemed to open

straight off his heart. There had never been anything but honesty in Brian.

[467]
I could tell him how she lied, I could bring him to his knees, but that isn’t what I want, is

it? No, not anymore.

Rose sat back, marveling at how little pain she felt. She had come to the end with Brian, and

there was only bittersweet nostalgia.

“Go after her,” she told him with sudden urgency. “If you really mean that, then go after her,

tell her you love her no matter what she’s done, or will ever do.”

“As simple as that?”

“No. It’s never simple. I’m not saying that.” An image of Max filled her mind, free at last of

Brian’s shadow. An image keen as a beautiful keepsake she had given away, not realizing its

value.

Oh, Max, why didn’t I see?

“You have to try,” she finished lamely, unable to convey all that she was feeling.

“Rose, there’s something else ... I’ve hated myself for a long time for what happened with us.”

“Don’t,” she said, and she meant it. She squeezed his hand once, then let go. “You were right,

what you said before. If we had gotten married ... well, maybe I wasn’t ready then for anything

less than perfect. Like that fort up on the roof. Our own little world. But it wasn’t real, was it? It

was just made up. Like those stories you used to write.”

“Rose ... what I felt for you, that was real.”

“I know. I know that now.” She slid sideways, and stood up. “I have to go now, Bri. There’s

something important I forgot to do.”
I just hope it’s not too late.

He rose, and awkwardly put out his hand. “Good-bye, Rose.”

Ignoring his hand, she kissed him lightly on the cheek, feeling a knot in the back of her throat.

“Good-bye. And good luck. I hope everything works out for you. You know, it’s funny, but in

spite of everything, I still believe in happy endings.”

Rose turned back into the crowded bar, trailed by the lonesome rill of a saxophone, and said a

silent prayer that Max would be home when she called.

Chapter 35

The judge brought his gavel down with a perfunctory thunk that sent a shudder through Rachel.

She felt so tense, the muscles in her back and shoulders locked in place, as if the slightest

movement would snap her in two like a dry twig.

God, let this be over soon.

She had handled worse, far worse, in Vietnam. Broken, bleeding men. Dying babies. But she

had been strong then, knowing what to do, and doing it. Here she felt powerless to help even

herself, her future in other people’s hands.

“Continued trial, Saucedo versus Rosenthal ... ,” the clerk called out loudly for the benefit of

the stenographer bent over her little machine, tapping away at it like some manic overgrown

insect.

The preliminaries observed, jury attendance taken.

And now the show begins, Rachel thought, glancing about, seeing the faces around her sharpen

with attention, hearing the din fade away. She fingered the charm hanging from the chain about

her. neck—a tiny gold caduceus, symbol of the physician. Kay had given it to her at the start of

the trial.

“I almost got you a Star of David,” she’d said. “But I chose this instead. I figured you’d need

reminding—so okay you’re not God, you’re a doctor ... but a damn good one.”

She wished Kay were here now. But Rachel had insisted, despite Kay’s protestations, that she

stay at the clinic. There was too much to do, and they were short-staffed as it was.

Though after this trial, there might not be a clinic, she reminded herself bitterly.

Well, it wouldn’t go on much longer. Whatever the outcome, the agony would soon be over.

Then there was life to be faced without Brian, and she’d have to find a way to deal with that. But

at least the secrets, the lies, would be finished.

[469] A strange exhausted relief stole over her.

It’s in Rose’s hands now. The perfect weapon. She can save me and destroy me in one stroke.

Reveal everything about David and me, save me from his lies ... and damn me with my own.

She looked over at Rose, rising from her chair, tall and somehow invincible. She seemed to

dominate the courtroom, a blaze of determination. She wore a blouse of deep crimson, tweed

skirt, black leather boots. A crucifix at her throat, with pearls looped below. That odd, lone ruby

earring. Her dark hair riding her shoulders like a thundercloud.

She’s different. Stronger. Something’s happened to her. Brian? Has she been with Brian?

Rachel imagined them together, Rose and Brian. Intertwined in bed, touching, kissing, loving

each other without barriers, without secrets. She felt as if her heart had been sliced open.

She missed Brian, more than she would ever have thought possible. She had not seen him in

two days, except here in the courtroom. They had not spoken. Not since she’d gone to stay with

Mama. She had left him a note, asked that he not try to contact her, at least not for a little while.

He would know why soon enough.

She willed herself not to turn around, not to search for his dear, familiar face. But she could

feel his presence. Warming her, supporting her. Despite everything, he would give her his loyalty.

But soon he’d know how she’d lied to him. What then?

Her life was in Rose’s hands now. Everything depended on Rose. Why had she confided in

Rose? Why put a loaded gun in the hands of the one person who had the most to gain by

destroying her?

Because I’m tired,
she thought,
exhausted from lying.

So exhausted she felt ill.

Suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of everyone knowing, Brian, Mama, all these

bloodthirsty strangers. Her secret—how she had forced David to abort his own child—dragged

into the light like some grotesque insect from under a rock. People would never understand,

they’d see it as her monstrous revenge, something vile and depraved. And how could she explain

it, make people believe that [470] what she’d wanted was something decent, something her

conscience could live with?

Don’t do it,
she pleaded silently, watching Rose approach the bench, the white-haired judge

lean toward her.
Oh, please, don’t.

“Your Honor, I wish to cross-examine Mr. Di Fazio’s last witness, Dr. Sloane,” Rose said, her